


Schitt Happens

by brycelwynn



Category: Glee, Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brycelwynn/pseuds/brycelwynn
Summary: David Rose and Patrick Brewer are still adjusting to life as a married couple.After filing for divorce, renowned menswear designer Kurt Hummel decides to leave NYC. He journeys to Schitt's Creek to reunite with his dear friend and former muse David Rose.Meanwhile, former NHL player turned mystery writer Dave Karofsky is struggling to meet the deadline on his latest book. Figuring he needs a change of scenery, he heads to Schitt's Creek for some peace and quiet. There he meets back up with his former roommate Patrick Brewer.As David and Patrick plays hosts to their former friends, they soon discover Kurt and Dave have an explosive history and perhaps this is the time for certain passions to ignite.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Dave Karofsky & Patrick Brewer, David Karofsky & Santana Lopez, Kurt Hummel & David Rose, Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	1. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Patrick Brewer smiled as he watched the young woman brunette with cute toddler in tow exit the store. David had balked at his idea to sell pumpkin-scented lotions and face creams and candles during the autumn months. Not only had David declared all things pumpkin-related _patently basic_ , he believed the selling of such items would only encourage Upstate New York moms with asymmetrical bobs to patronize their store. 

Patrick had to admit his husband had been right about one thing. Ever since the first leave had changed colors, Rose Apothecary had become the hottest spot in town. Since the first official week of fall, the store had been packed with middle-aged women in cardigans who wore larger than life diamonds on their manicured fingers and used words like “quaint” and “charming” to describe the store. Patrick listened as they went on and on about their husbands and tennis coaches and plastic surgeons and their kids currently away at boarding school while Patrick worked on the inventory in the back.

“You know I have an allergy to Shalimar,” David had whined to Patrick one late-September evening as they were closing the store. “One whiff of it and my throat’s closing up and by the time the paramedics arrive I’d already be dead and I just don’t want you t have to spend the rest of your life unable to move on because you can’t stop mourning me.”

Patrick smirked as he looked over at his husband who was gesticulating so wildly he feared he would knock over the display of pumpkin-flavored lip balm sitting next to the register.

“You do realize I’m barely in my thirties so if that ever were to happen, which I highly doubt it ever will, I’d still be young enough to meet someone, fall in love and remarry.”

David’s brows convened at the middle of his forehead as he held his hand to his chest.

“You see that would never happen.”

Patrick folded his arms over his broad chest and asked, “Um, why not?”

“Because.”

“Because …”

“Because I already had Stevie promise me she’d poison you if you ever found someone else.”

“Seriously?”

“Nothing excruciating,” David had said. “Quick and painless.”

The door to the stockroom whined jarring Patrick from his memories. He looked up just in time to see David carrying one of the biggest baskets he had ever seen. He watched as David walked over and sat it on the front counter, this time actually knocking over the display next to the register. A couple dozen pumpkin-shaped lip balms scattered across the hardwood floor stopping just sort of David’s tan, size 12 cavalier boots which David had worn while walking in a runway show during last year’s Fashion Week and had “forgotten” to return afterwards.

  
“What’s all this for?” Patrick asked, gesturing at the items in the basket.

“Well, since Kurt’s coming into town, I thought I’d throw a few things together as sort of a welcome gift.”

“Kurt?”

David rolled his eyes and said, “Kurt Hummel. The designer. He was supposed to come to our wedding but his dog had appendicitis and needed emergency surgery.”

“Dogs don’t have appendixes.”

“Really? Wait – how do you even know that?”

“I figured most people knew that dogs don’t have appendixes.”

“Fine – maybe it was dysentery or IBS. Either way he missed our wedding but he did send us a gift.”

Patrick recalled seeing the name ‘Kurt Hummel’ at the bottom of a gold-embossed card. The card had come inside a thin turquoise box with a brown bow.

“The scarves,” Patrick said.

“Pashminas,” David said. “They’re called pashminas.”

This time it was Patrick’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “They’re pashminas. So, this Kurt guy, he’s coming to Schitt’s Creek?”

“Yeeeeeeaaaaah,” David drawled as he began placing the fallen lip balms back on the display.  
Apparently he and his husband just announced their divorce so he’s hiding out here for a couple of weeks to avoid the paparazzi.”

“Divorce. That sucks.”

David shrugged and said, “Can’t say that I didn’t see it coming. They got married in a barn. In Indiana.”

“So what? We got married at town hall and our wedding was amazing.”

David looked thoughtful for a brief moment and said, “You’re right.” He looked past his husband and at the framed black and white photo on the cream-colored wall behind him. Ray had taken the photo at their wedding reception. Patrick looked the happiest he had ever been as he smashed chocolate cake in David’s face.

“Is he staying at the motel?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, Stevie’s giving him me and Alexis’s old room. She just texted me to let me know the room’s ready.”

Patrick reached inside the giant basket in front of him and pulled out a large jar of peppermint-scented face cream.

“David, this stuff is like fifty bucks.”

David frowned and then gave a half-hearted smile. “Patrick, Sweetie – those pashminas are eleven hundred bucks. A piece. I think we can spare one jar of face cream.”

Patrick placed the face cream back in the basket and gave his husband a tight smile. “Fine. You taking this over now?”

“Yes,” David said grabbing the basket. “Kurt texted and said he should arrive around four. I figure we’d have him over for wine and charcuterie later.”

“Charcuterie?”

“Yeah – it’s like this platter with different types of meats and cheeses on it.”

“David, I know what charcuterie is.”

“I asked Twyla if she’d put one together for us and she said it would be ready by six. Mind picking it up on your way home?”

“Wow, you’re really rolling out the red carpet for this Kurt Hummel person,” Patrick said.

“You know it’s very rare this town gets a celebrity of this caliber. Except that one time Tom Selleck’s car broke down outside the diner.”

Patrick had not seen his husband tis happy in over a few weeks. Though he would never admit it, David missed his sister, Alexis, and even his parents. Patrick missed them, too. So much had changed in the last year, mostly for the better, and they were till adjusting.

“I’ll pick up the charcuterie.”

“Thanks,” David said as he pushed open the front door with his elbow. “I’ll be back in like 30 minutes. I still got a few boxes to go through before we close.”

“Be careful.” Patrick gave him a small wave and watched him step out into the chilly autumn afternoon.

A few moments later, just as Patrick started straightening one of the shelves near the front counter, the front door opened again, followed by a rush of cool air. Patrick looked over his shoulder and did a double-take. He stepped down off the stepladder he had been standing on and started walking towards the front door, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“You made it,” he said wiping his hands on the front of the dark slacks he was wearing.

The taller, beefier gentleman standing in the doorway wore a red flannel shirt, dark denim jeans and scuffed hiking boots. A trucker’s hat was pulled tight over messy, dark curls. Not much had changed about the man in front of Patrick, except maybe a few extra pounds around his midsection and the Grizzly Adams beard shrouding the lower-half of his face.

Patrick held out his arms and the other man stepped forward and engulfed him in a tight hug. Patrick closed his eyes and inhaled. He even smelled the same. A hint of sweat and way too much aftershave.

“Good to see you buddy.”

Patrick opened his eyes and slowly stepped away from their embrace. “You just missed David.”

“Was he the guy in the skirt and combat boots carrying a huge basket?”

Patrick nodded. “That would be him.”

“Interesting outfit.”

“David’s quite adventurous when it comes to his wardrobe.”

The guy opposite Patrick smiled a bit and said, “Hmm, sounds like a guy I used to know.”

“When did you get in?” Patrick asked as he moved back over towards the front counter.

“About thirty minutes ago. Went by the motel first to check-in and drop my stuff off before I came over here.”

“Oh cool. What room you in?” Patrick asked.

“Room 7. It’s pretty nice. A lot bigger than I was expecting.”

“That’s Mr. and Mrs. Rose’s old room.”

“Who?”

“Johnny and Moira Rose,” Patrick said. “They’re David’s parents. My in-laws. They used to live there before they moved to California.”

“Your in-laws used to live in a motel?”

Patrick waved his hand and said, “Long story.”

“Well, I plan on staying here until I meet my deadline so I’m pretty sure you’ll have plenty of time to tell me.” A loud growling nose came from his stomach. “I’m starving. Is there anyway to grab a bite to eat nearby?”

“There’s a diner right down the street,” Patrick said. “The food’s pretty good.”

“I think I’ll grab something to eat.”

“Great,” Patrick said. “That’ll give me time to finish up around here – and also tell David you’re here.”

“Wait – he doesn’t know I’m here.”

Patrick smiled nervously and said, “He will by the time you meet him.”

The other guy sighed and shook his head.

“Some things never change,” he said as he started to go out the front door. “Text me and maybe we can do dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Patrick said. He watched as his old friend exited the store. A few moments later he remembered he and David were supposed to have David’s friend over for dinner. _Shit_. He needed to call David.


	2. Welcome to the Rosebud Motel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt Hummel arrives in Schitt's Creek and has second thoughts about his living acccomodations.

The flight from New York City to Toronto had been a nightmare of epic proportions. Not only had Kurt Hummel ended up with an aisle seat, the couple seated behind him had a toddler who talked non-stop and kicked the back of his seat during the one and a half-hour flight. When the plane finally touched down at the Toronto Pearson International Airport, Kurt had been the first to exit.

In the time it had taken him to reprimand his assistants, Penelope and Genevieve, via email, Kurt had claimed his three pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage, purchased a grande nonfat mocha from the Starbucks and picked up his rental at the Enterprise kiosk. Two and a half hours later, Kurt Hummel arrived in Schitt's Creek.

Kurt lowered his Dior sunglasses and looked up at the sign This had to be a mistake. He grabbed his phone off the passenger's seat and quickly scrolled through his text messages. He found the text from David with the address to the Rosebud Motel. He was definitely at the right place.

"Siri," he spoke into his phone. "Call Penelope."

"Calling Penelope Assistant," a feminine voice with a British accent announced.

"This is Genevieve."

"Genevieve," Kurt said. "I called Penelope."

"Kurt," his assistant spoke. "I told you I dropped my phone in a sewer grate on my way to work this morning. Penelope and I are sharing a phone until I pick up a new one this weekend."

"Oh," Kurt said. "I do remember you saying that."

"Kurt, what's up? You sound stressed."

"Well, I am stressed," he said rubbing at the back of his neck. "I was on the flight from hell."

"We know," Genevieve said. "We got your email. About your seat ..."

Kurt waved his hand as if he were swatting an invisible fly. "No need to explain. I've got more pressing matters to deal with at the moment. I need you to book me a flight back to New York."

"Wait, what? Why? I thought the whole point of this trip was for you get away for a bit."

"I can't stay here," Kurt blurted.

A rather lengthy sigh came from the other end of the line. "Why not?"

"If I stay here I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up murdered."

"Kurt, I was up until 2 AM researching Schitt's Creek. The Rosebud Motel was named one of the cleanest and safest motels in 2019 plus their Yelp rating is through the roof. You couldn't have picked a better place to stay."

Kurt chewed his bottom lip as he mulled over what he had just been told. The last several years had been nothing but luxurious penthouses in Dubai and private resorts peppered throughout the Mediterranean. He reckoned he would soon being saying goodbye to midnight rooftop massages and sumptuous breakfasts on private yachts. Especially since his soon-to-be ex-husband was asking for half. The bastard.

"Kurt - you're going to be fine," his assistant spoke calmly. "Besides, the last place you want to be right now is here. There's paparazzi outside the studio. And your apartment building. Trust me, you made the right decision getting on that plane this afternoon."

Kurt swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat and said, "I appreciate you and Penelope holding down the fort in my absence."

"We got your back, Kurt. It's time you take are of yourself and you can start by walking into that office and checking into your room."

This time it was Kurt's turn to let out a long sigh.

"You're right," Kurt said. "I'll be in touch and please, just ignore that email I sent earlier."

"It's already been deleted," Genevieve said. "Have fun, Kurt."

"I'll try," he said. 

Kurt ended the call and looked back up at the motel in front of him. He recalled the last time he had stayed in a motel. His father had taken him to Cedar Point for his ninth birthday. Since it was his first birthday without his mother, the trip also served as a momentary distraction from what had otherwise been a fairly traumatic time in his life. After hours spent at the amusement park, Burt Hummel had driven them to a motel outside of Sandusky, Ohio. The place was old and a bit on the rundown side and the linens had smelled like old cigarettes.

Kurt smiled as he remembered how he and his father had walked past a small machine filled with what Kurt believed at the time were balloons. He had begged his dad to buy him one but a flustered Burt had whisked him away from the dust-covered machine and told them he would buy him a balloon when they got home the following day. 

Kurt pushed open the driver's side door and got out of his rental. The crisp autumn air reminded him of Lima. Though he would never admit it, he found himself missing his hometown more and more with each passing day. While life in the big city had afforded him with more opportunities than he could count, things had been much simpler in Lima.

The front office smelled of fresh coffee and cinnamon provoking a growl from Kurt's stomach. He had skipped out on breakfast and had given his packet of peanuts to the kindly elderly woman sitting next to him on the plane. He wondered what culinary options were available in Schitt's Creek. He seriously doubted there would be any fine dining over the next few weeks.

He was just about to announce his presence to the empty room when a dark-haired youth with kind brown eyes emerged from a back room. He wore a crisp white button down shirt and dark slacks. The name on his name tag read "Connor".

"Welcome to the Rosebud Motel," Connor spoke as he gave Kurt a quick up and down. "You must be Mr. Hummel."

Kurt removed his sunglasses and said, "That would be me." He looked over Connor's shoulder towards the room he had just come from. "I was told to ask for Stevie. Is she around."

"Yes," Connor said. "I mean, no. Actually she is here but she stepped away for awhile. She should be back any minute now. She told me to handle your check-in. I hope that's okay with you."

Kurt smiled politely and said, "It's fine with me."

Connor smiled and said, "Awesome. It's a pleasure to have you with us, Mr. Hummel."

Kurt held his hand up and said, "You can call me, Kurt. Mr. Hummel is my father."

"Yes - the congressman," Connor nodded emphatically. 

"Well, looks like someone's done their research," Kurt said as he slowly approached the front desk.

Connor blushed a bit and lowered his head. "I know this isn't professional, Mr. Hummel, I mean, Kurt, but I'm a huge fan of your work. Your 2018 fall collection was brilliant."

Kurt had assumed his impromptu trip to middle of nowhere Ontario would afford him a certain level of anonymity. The way David had described Schitt's Creek in his emails, he figured the place would be devoid of any style or culture. 

Kurt placed his hand to his chest and said, "Thank you."

Connor shot Kurt another smile before he turned around and started rummaging through a drawer. When he turned back around, he held a key in his hand.

"You'll be staying in Room 6," Connor said. "I can take you there now."

"Thanks, that would be great," Kurt said as he watched the younger man step from behind the front desk.

"Right this way." Connor paused at the front door and looked over his shoulder. "Would you like me to get your bags?"

Kurt shook his head and said, "No thanks. That won't be necessary."

The two of them stepped outside and Kurt followed Connor to Room 6 which was not too far away from where he had parked his rental. He watched as Connor inserted the key into the lock. Kurt stilled himself in preparation of what awaited him on the other side of the door. 

Connor held open the door waiting for him to step through. Kurt placed one tentative loafer over the threshold and peeked inside. The interior was dark wood and warm beige. The two twin-sized beds David and his sister Alexis had once occupied had been replaced by a California king. A large flat-screen television sat opposite the bed and what appeared to be the most comfortable sofa in the world had been positioned in front of the window overlooking the parking lot.

"The Roses recently had this room and the room next door renovated," Connor announced from the doorway. "I hope everything is to your liking, Kurt."

Kurt made a full 360-degree turn as he took in his new surroundings. There was even an espresso machine and a mini bar. Suddenly he found himself no longer dreading his two-week stay in Schitt's Creek.

"Here's your key."

Kurt turned around and took the key from Connor. 

"You sure you don't need me to bring in your things?" Connor asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. Thank you again. This looks ... wonderful."

Connor grinned and said, "Well, I'll leave you to get settled in. If you need me, just ring the front office. The number's right there on the table."

Kurt watched as Connor stepped through the front door and closed it behind him. He then slowly walked over to the bed, kicking his shoes off along the way, and then collapsed on top of it. He closed his eyes and exhaled. At least he would be sleeping well while he was in Schitt's Creek. 

He thought about his luggage and figured he could rest for a bit before he started unpacking. He held up his arm and took notice of the time. It was a little after four. He had plenty of time to catch a quick nap before he was due to have dinner with David and his husband, Patrick.

Kurt closed his eyes and soaked in his surroundings. There were no sounds of traffic or flash bulbs going off. There were no assistants around to poke their heads in his room to remind him about a meeting or lunch appointment. There was no soon-to-be ex-husband there to constantly remind him of his inadequacies.

In other words, Kurt Hummel was in paradise.


	3. Party of Four?

Patrick pulled his car into the driveway just as evening was beginning to settle in. As he shut off the headlights and engine, he admired the brick house in front of him. There were moments where he could hardly believe this quaint place with the red shutters was theirs. Aside from marrying David, purchasing their first home together was one of his proudest moments.

Patrick grabbed a few things off the back seat before locking and activating the alarm system on his car. Dead leaves crunched under the soles of his sneakers as he followed the small brick path up to the front door. Patrick could hear David’s Mariah Carey playlist playing as he inserted his key into the lock. He was greeted by the scent of vanilla and apples as he stepped into the front room. As he passed through the den, he noticed a few dozen lit candles placed along the coffee table and on the mantle above the fireplace and on top of the piano Clint and Marcy Brewer had gifted them for their wedding. There was a small fire going in the fireplace.

“I wasn’t aware we were holding a séance,” Patrick said as he entered the kitchen.

David was standing at the kitchen island flipping through the pages of his favorite Chrissy Teigen cookbook. Patrick sat the platter he had picked up from the Café Tropical on the nearest surface and looked over at his husband.

“Are you planning on cooking something?” he asked.

David frowned and said, “I’m having second thoughts on the menu.”

“I thought we were having wine. And _charcuterie_.”

“Yeah, but I wonder if that’s going to be enough.”

“Well, I can always have a pizza delivered,” Patrick said.

David shot Patrick a scandalized look and said, “We’re not serving Kurt Hummel pizza.” He then glanced down at what Patrick was holding. “And what are those?”

Patrick looked down at the bouquet of lilies in his hand.

“Um, they’re flowers, David,” Patrick said.

“I know what they are, Patrick. Why do you have them?” David squawked.

“Gee, David – maybe I thought it would be nice to pick up some flowers for my husband.”

Patrick opened a cabinet near the stove and pulled out a small, blue vase.

“It’s just that the last time a guy bought me flowers, he told me he was moving. To Yemen.”

“I assure you I’m not moving,” Patrick said as he filled the vase with trap water from the sink. He carefully arranged the flowers in the vase and sat them down on the kitchen island.

David shot a worried glance at the flowers.

“And you’re sure nothing’s wrong? No one died?”

Patrick laughed and said, “David – no one is dead. Nothing’s wrong, I promise.”

David leaned forward and sniffed the flowers.

“Well – thanks,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Patrick said leaning against the refrigerator. He bit his lower lip and looked down at the tiled floor. “There is something I have to tell you?”

“Oh god, something is wrong. Is it my parents? Alexis? Something’s wrong with Alexis.”

“David, it’s none of those things. What I have to tell you is … do you remember me ever mentioning someone named Dave?”

David’s brow arched. “Dave?”

“Dave Karofsky,” Patrick said.

“Sounds hot,” David said closing the cookbook. “What about him?”

“He was my roommate back at U of M,” Patrick explained. “He’s in town for the next couple of weeks and I sort of forgot to mention it to you.”

David looked thoughtful for a moment and said, “Fine – invite him over for dinner. By the looks of this platter, there’s enough for all of us.”

Patrick blinked a few times and said, “Um – wow.”

“What?” David asked.

Patrick shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I figured you’d be upset.”

“How could I be upset with my husband? Especially when he brings me flowers?”

David grabbed the vase and walked around the kitchen island and into the next room. Patrick followed him into the dining room. A gold cloth had been draped over the small table and there were three place settings.

“I’ll just make another place setting,” David said.

Patrick took the vase from David and placed it in the center of the table.

“Thank you for being okay with this,” Patrick said.

David shrugged his shoulders and said, “You can make it up to me later.”

Patrick smirked and said, “Well, that can be arranged.”

“So, tell me more about this Dave Karofsky person,” David said. He plucked another plate and glass from the china cabinet.

Patrick shoved his hands into his pockets and asked, “What do you want to know?”

“What was he like in college?”

“I dunno – just a regular guy I guess. He’s from Lima, Ohio.”

David wriggled his nose. “Lima?”

“Yeah – like the bean,” Patrick said. “He played on the hockey team. He went pro after college but three years in he got a shoulder injury.”

“Wow – that sucks,” David said as he carefully arranged the fourth place setting.

“Yeah,” Patrick said as he looked down at his feet. “We sort of fail out of touch not too long after that.”

“So, why’d he reach out now? After all this time?”

“I dunno,” Patrick said. “He reached out to me, out of the blue, a couple of weeks ago. He lives in Seattle now. Said he was looking to get away for a bit so I mentioned the motel.”

“He’s staying at the motel?” David asked.

“Yeah – Room 7.”

“Hmm,” David said.

“What?” Patrick asked.

David looked up from what he was doing and said, “I was just thinking that’s Mom and Dad’s old room and Kurt’s staying in me and Alexis’s old room.”

“Speaking of Kurt,” Patrick said, “He make it into town okay?”

David nodded. “Yeah, he texted me after he checked in at the motel. He says he loves his room. I told him to be here at seven.”

Patrick looked over at the wall clock above the antique credenza he and David had rescued from a yard sale in Elmdale. It was a quarter after six though it felt much later now that the days were getting shorter.

“Are you going to let Dave know about dinner?” David asked.

Patrick opened his mouth to respond just as his phone started ringing. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out his phone. Dave Karofsky’s Facebook profile picture filled the slender screen. Patrick had seen the same photo on the Chicago Blackhawks website back when he was a left wing.

“Speak of the devil,” Patrick said as he pressed the answer button. “This is Patrick.”

“Hey – it’s Dave.”

“Hi, Dave,” Patrick said, shifting his phone from one ear to the other. “You all settled in at the hotel?”

“I’m not at the hotel,” Dave said.

Patrick detected a hint of melancholy in his old friend’s voice which was not exactly out of the ordinary.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Some place called _Nicky’s_ ,” Dave said. “It’s in Elmdale.”

Patrick knew of the place. He had gone there a few times right after he had moved to Schitt’s Creek. The place was a hole-in-the-wall but had amazing burgers and cheap beer.

“I was just about to invite you over for dinner,” Patrick said. “David was really looking forward to meeting you.”

There was a pause in the conversation, long enough for Patrick to think the call had dropped.

“Dave? You still there?”

“Patrick,” Dave said. “You think you could meet me here? At the bar?”

Patrick looked over at David who was busy folding navy blue cloth napkins. He turned around to face away from his husband and lowered his voice.

“Dave, are you okay?”

“Could you please come?” Dave asked. His voice was low and raspy. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

Patrick frowned. David had been planning this dinner the entire week. There was no way he could bail on him, especially not at the last minute. But something about the way Dave Karofsky sounded really tugged on Patrick’s heartstrings. The two of them had occupied the same shoebox-sized living space for two years. Yet, there was still so much about the man Patrick did not know. Patrick had been looking forward to his former roommate’s arrival in Schitt’s Creek. He hoped they would be able to pick up where they last left off.

“Can you give me thirty minutes?” Patrick asked.

“Uh – yeah,” Dave said. “I’ll see you in thirty minutes. I, uh – I really appreciate it Patrick.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Patrick looked over at David who was now laying out silverware. Just the thought of disappointing his husband made his insides hurt.

He then looked over at the vase filled with lilies. By the time all was said and done, he would owe David Rose an entire garden.


	4. Auntie Snix Gets Her Groove Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Dave waits for Patrick to show up, he chats with an old friend.

Nicky's was exactly the kind of place Dave Karofsky would have frequented back in high school. Back when his circle of friends included some of the guys from the hockey team. Back when he was pretending to be straight.

Dave thought of the time he and his teammate Chris Strando used Microsoft Paint and the photo from his actual license to create a fake ID. He remembered the two of them sneaking into the teacher's lounge to use the laminating machine to make it look more legit. Dave smirked as he recalled the bouncer at Scandal's looking back and forth between him and the clearly phony ID before reluctantly granting him access to his first gay bar. 

Dave looked around the bar. The place was pretty dead for a Friday night. There was a small group of guys, of the navy polos, salmon-colored khakis and backwards baseball cap variety, playing pool a few feet away from him. They were tanned and handsome and looked as much out of place as he did in this place straight out of a Patrick Swayze movie. Bon Jovi played on the ancient jukebox right next to the bar where the brunette bartender, who'd briefly flirted with Dave before bringing him a beer, was busy trying not to look bored, occasionally looking up to see if he needed a refill.

Dave checked his phone again. The last text he'd received from Patrick said he was five minutes away. That was over ten minutes ago. Dave squirmed in his seat as he checked the entrance again. A man and a woman, both who looked to be in the fifties, had just walked in, he wearing a cowboy hat and she wearing the biggest hair Dave had seen not on a drag queen. 

His phone vibrated and the screen illuminated. He normally wouldn't have answered a Facetime call, especially in public but Dave found himself in that moment starved for human interaction so he answered the call. 

The orientation of Santana's screen kept changing as she tried to find something to prop her phone against. After a few moments of alternating views of her ceiling and the plush brown carpet lining her bathroom floor, her face finally came into view.

"Where are you?" she asked, her gaze flicking back and forth between the camera and what Dave assumed was her bathroom mirror. Santana Lopez was currently putting on the biggest pair of silver hoop earrings he'd ever seen her wear. There were large curlers in her newly sandy blonde hair and a pore strip over the bridge of her nose. Even half-dressed and with her makeup halfway done, Santana Lopez looked stunning.

"A bar." Dave held his phone a comfortable distance from his face as he watched his former fake girlfriend turned BFF casually apply gloss to her lips. "Hold on a sec. You have a smokey eye and your boobs are out." Dave shot her his biggest shit-eating grin and shook his head in semi-disbelief. "Please don't tell me you have a date."

Santana smiled and playfully shrugged her bare shoulders. That was all the confirmation Dave Karofsky needed. 

"What's her name."  
Santana wrinkled her nose as she appeared to look at something off-camera.

"Mel Henley."

Dave recalled accompanying Santana to last month's PTO meeting. The two of them had sat in the back row, quietly mocking the twenty-something moms complaining about the lack of vegan options available in the school cafeteria and how yoga should be available as an alternative to P.E. Afterwards they had met with each of Liliana's teachers, including the most beautiful woman both Dave and Santana had ever laid eyes on. She was tall, borderline Amazonian, with terracotta skin, a nose ring and a shaved head. She'd introduced herself as Melanie Henley, Mel for short.

Dave's eyes widened.

"Lily's teacher?"

" _Music_ teacher," Santana clarified, as if the distinction made things better.

This time it was Dave's turn to look off camera, to survey his own surroundings. The frat boys were now chatting up the bartender who looked beyond annoyed. Dave drew his phone closer to his face and lowered his voice.

"So, you're banging your daughter's _music_ teacher," he said. "That's hot."

"OK, Paris." Santana punctuated her words with her trademark eye-roll and lifted her hands to start removing the rollers from her hair. "First off, I haven't banged anyone since your birthday party - last year."

"You hooked up with someone at my birthday party?"

"What can I say - your editor's got this sexy Maggie Gyllenhaal in _Secretary_ thing going on and she was basically eye-fuh-er-humping me the entire night."

"I'd really appreciate you not sleeping with my editor," Dave said reaching for his beer. "A good editor's really hard to come by."

"Oh, but a really good editor is really fun to come with," Santana said.

"You're a whore," Dave said.

Santana made a kissy face as Dave watched her hair fall over her shoulder. She looked like a modern day Veronica Lake.

"Speaking of," she said. "You mentioned you were at a bar. I see you're back to your D-trolling ways."

"I'm actually meeting a friend. Remember Patrick Brewer?"

"The hockey hunk roommate?" Santana Lopez asked.

"That would be the one."

"The one you pined over for four years."

Dave rolled his eyes and said, "I did not pine over Patrick."

Santana scoffed and said, "Oh puh-leeze. You're thirty-two years old, Dave and I've known you for over half those years. First Kurt and then Patrick. Whenever you fall a guy, you fall hard. Hell, the only reason you even dated The Hobbit was to get closer to Kurt."

Dave could feel his face turning the exact shade of red as the halter dress Santana was shimmying into. The thing he loved most about her was how honest she was. Unfortunately that was also the thing he hated most about her. 

"Wait a sec - where are you meeting Patrick? Is he in Seattle?"

"No," Dave said after taking a swig of beer. "He lives in Schitt's Creek?"

"Excuse me?"

"Schitt's Creek - it's a few hours outside of Toronto."  
"Hold up - you're in Canada? You just up and left the country and you didn't tell me?"

"Hmm - my editor knows I'm here," Dave smirked. "Perhaps you could've asked her."

"Eat a dick," Santana said. "Now why exactly are you in this Shit Creek place?"

" _Schitt's_ Creek."

"Yeah - still sounds like you're saying _shit_ but whatevs."

Dave shrugged his massive, plaid covered shoulders and said, "I just needed a change of scenery."

"So, this wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that New York is a few hours away."

"No - why?"

Santana sighed and said, "I'm surprised you haven't heard. It's all over the TMZ."

"You know I don't follow that garbage."

"Hey - if it weren't for that _garbage_ your girl wouldn't have gotten the cover of this week's _Soap Opera Digest_. PS - I sent you and your dad a copy."

"I'm sure he'd like that," Dave said. "You know he's like your biggest fan. So, what's all over TMZ?"

Santana chewed her bottom lip as she pulled the pore strip from her nose. She tossed it into the nearby trash.

"Kurt and the Hobbit are getting a divorced."  
"Kurt and Blaine are getting a divorce?"  
"I'm surprised you haven't heard about it yet," Santana said. "It's like the biggest thing in gay news since that scabies outbreak at that Fire Island white party Labor Day weekend."

"Well, admittedly I've been a bit preoccupied with my upcoming deadline as well as dealing with my own relationship demise."

"Hey, my offer still stands," Santana said. 

"While I appreciate that you know of a couple of guys who would be willing to make my soon-to-be-ex disappear and never be heard from again, I think I'll save all the murderous hijinks for my books."

"Hey, I may be the single actress mom whose daughter attends a private school in Bel-Air but I'm still that same girl who grew up in Lima Heights Adjacent and will not hesitate to use one of the razor blades I keep in my hair to cut a bitch."

"And I love you for that," Dave said. He inhaled through his nose and slowly let the air escape from between his lips. "I'm going to use the next couple of weeks to disconnect for a bit and get this deadline met. I'll worry about my Luke problem when I get back to Seattle."

"So, are you planning on going completely off the grid or can I still text and occasionally call to bug you?"

"Aside from you and Dad and my editor who you apparently flicked the bean with at my birthday party, no one calls or texts me. Patrick looks like he keeps pretty busy so I don't expect for us to be palling around 24/7. I'll need someone to talk to."

Dave looked up, again at the front entrance just as Patrick was entering. 

"Speak of the devil," Dave said. "Looks like Patrick just arrived."

Santana smirked and said, "Have fun. Do exactly everything I would do."

"He's married," Dave said. 

"Technically, so are you," Santana said with a wink.

"OK - I'm turning you off now."

"And I'm going to go meet my daughter's teacher for dinner followed by a movie and maybe some coffee and sweet lady kisses afterwards."

"Go get 'em, Tiger," Dave said. 

Santana gave him a quick wave before she disappeared from his phone. Dave smiled and shook his head as he placed his phone in the front pocket of his shirt. As soon as he got back to Seattle, he would definitely make plans to go spend a few weeks with her and Liliana in California. They were only a hop, skip and a jump away by plane but Dave wished they lived closer. 

Dave met Patrick's gaze and waved in his direction. Patrick started towards him. He was looking forward to catching up with his old friend. The next two weeks in Schitt's Creek was a welcomed distraction from the life that was waiting or not waiting for him back in Seattle. He could focus on finishing his seventh book while not thinking about the men in his life. That included one Kurt Hummel


	5. Divorce Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt explains the circumstances behind his impending divorce.

David sat both glasses down on the small table and took the chair opposite his guest. Kurt reached for the one closest to him and brought it to his lips. He closed his eyes and let the chartreuse linger on his palate a bit before swallowing. The temperature had dropped considerably since his arrival at the Rose-Brewer household but the liquor was slowly warming his insides. It was the first time Kurt Hummel had truly felt at ease since his world first started to unravel a few weeks ago.

"Your home is really lovely," he said.

David stared back at him over the rim of the glass he had gripped in both his hands.

"You think?"

Kurt nodded and said, "It's very quaint."

David lowered his glass and smirked. "I actually wanted us to move to New York but Patrick had his heart set on this place."

"So, you gave up New York for Schitt's Creek."

David recalled an unseasonably warm day in March. He'd somehow managed to convince Patrick to not only let him drive his car but also wear a blindfold until they reached their destination. David remembered the giddy anticipation he waited for Patrick to remove the blue handkerchief. He would never forget the look on his then soon-to-be husband's face as he saw the house in front of them.

_"What ... what about New York?" Patrick asked. "I thought that's where you wanted to be."_

_"I thought so too but it's not where you want to be. And don't want to be anywhere you don't be."_

_Patrick had placed his hands on David's waist and said, "David, I promise I will make you so happy."_

David looked over at Kurt and said, "I gave up New York for Patrick. Aside from marrying that man, staying in Schitt's Creek is honestly one of the best decisions I've ever made."

Kurt assumed hearing about someone else's happiness would be the last thing he'd want to hear right now but he liked hearing David talk about Patrick. The way David described his husband reminded Kurt of something he wrote years ago.

When Kurt was ten years twelve, while being surrounded by scrapbooking supplies, he'd started on what would eventually become the Kurt Hummel Wedding Book. Inside the heavy, leather-bound book, Kurt mapped out his plans for his future dream wedding. There were pages dedicated to what he would were (a Vivienne Westwood-inspired white tux), who would be his Maid of Honor (Mercedes Jones, of course) and who would be invited (most certainly not Santana Lopez or Quinn Fabray).

The final page of the book was a rather lengthy description of Kurt's ideal husband. As he sat there on David and Patrick's patio, he recalled a few of the things he'd written.

_My husband must be tall. Or at least taller than me._

_He should be athletic but not a total jock._

_He should sing or play at instrument._

_He should know how to make pancakes from scratch._

"I'm really happy for you, David," Kurt said. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he truly meant them.

David smiled and said, "Thank you."

The watch on Kurt's wrist buzzed signaling an incoming text message. It was Rachel Berry wanting to know where he was at and why he was ignoring her phone calls.

David caught the pained expression on Kurt's face and asked, "Is something wrong?"

Kurt looked up from his watch and saw the concerned look on David's face. He opened his mouth to speak but sighed instead. He shook his head and said, "I came here to get away from New York for awhile but New York won't leave me alone."

David figured now was as good of a time as any to finally address the elephant currently occupying space on his gorgeous patio. He polished off the last of his liquor courage before sitting the empty glass on the table. He chewed his bottom lip as he considered the best way to approach the topic of Kurt's impending divorce.

"He didn't cheat on me." Kurt leveled his blue-green gaze on David and added, "Just in case you're wondering."

In the time David had known Kurt, he'd only met his husband, Blaine Anderson, once. Both David and Alexis had shown up to Kurt's newly-renovated loft apartment in SoHo following the debut of Kurt's fall 2018 menswear collection. The gathering was an intimate one with only a few A-List and B-List celebrities in attendance. While David munched on canapés, he watched as Kurt interacted with the two women who never left his side. He recognized one of them as Rachel Berry who'd received a Tony nomination the year before. The second woman he would later learn was Mercedes Jones who, like Rachel, had known Kurt back when they'd all attended high school together.

Around midnight, as things were beginning to wind down, Blaine arrived, clothing somewhat disheveled and reeking of booze. He immediately threw himself against Kurt, ravished him with a kiss straight out of a 90s rom-com and walked right over to the piano tucked away in the corner of the room. For the next 45 minutes, everyone stood around the piano and listened as Blaine gave an impromptu concert. Everyone except Kurt.

"I only got to meet him just that one time," David said. "What was he like?"

Kurt appeared to mull this over for a few moments before he tapped his glass.

"I'm going to need another drink," he said. "Care to join me in the kitchen?"

David nodded and the two of them stood up from the table and walked back into the house with their glasses. While Kurt draped himself over one of the kitchen counters like a character straight out of a Tennessee Williams play, David went to work making a second round of drinks for the two of them.

"I would love to stand here and tell you about all of the awful things Blaine Anderson has done," Kurt spoke. "By all intents and purposes, Blaine's a great guy. He's one of my best friends. An amazing lover. I used to think those things were the prime ingredients necessary for a husband but then I started to realize I live in one of the largest cities in the entire world. I can literally walk outside of my apartment and find at least a dozen great guys. Great sex is only a Grindr or Scruff message away. I have the best friends a guy could ever have.

"None of those things even matter if you're not in love with the person."

David considered Kurt's words as he continued to prepare their drinks. Patrick, his Patrick, was a great guy and he considered him one of his best friends and the sex was pretty spectacular. Nearly a year later, just the mere mentioning of his name caused David's heart to fluttered. There were moments where the light would hit Patrick in such a way it would take the breath out of David's body. David Rose was, without a doubt, in love with Patrick Brewer.

"Unfortunately by the time I realized I was no longer in love with my husband, he'd already file the paperwork. Apparently he'd already figured out he wasn't in love with, too.

"So," Kurt continued, "Despite what Page 6 or TMZ's reporting, there are no villains in this story. Both sides have agreed to play fair and eventually once everyone figures out just how boring our separation is, they'll move on to something more scandalous."

While David was somewhat relieved to hear no infidelities or something as equally sordid were to blame for the sudden dissolution, he found the uneventful nature of their breakup just as disturbing. He wondered what would be worse? Finding out Patrick cheated on him or hearing Patrick say the words 'I'm not in love with you'. The thought of either made David's heart hurt.

"Perhaps this is a dumb question," David spoke behind gritted teeth. "But how are you, um, handling ... all of this?"

"I left my two million dollar apartment in New York City to spend two weeks in a place most people have never heard of," Kurt said. "I've spent the last 24 hours ignoring all my phone calls, emails and texts. My own father found out me and Blaine from some tabloid reporter. I think it's safe to say I'm not handling things."

David racked his brain for something to say. Saying the right thing wasn't exactly his forte. In fact, according to Stevie, David was best at saying all of the wrong things. He wished Patrick were here. Patrick always knew the right thing to say and when to say it.

"I appreciate you listening," Kurt spoke. "Rachel, I love her to death but I know if I pick up the phone to call her she's going to give me this epic list of reasons why Blaine and I shouldn't divorce. And Mercedes - she's going to take my side, which I really appreciate, but I really don't want to make this into a us versus them thing.

"I reckon I will, at some point, need to talk to him."

"You can talk to them tomorrow," David said. "Or the day after. Or the day after that. What's most important right now is that you take care of you."

"Funny," Kurt said. "My assistant told me the same thing earlier."

"Well, your assistance sounds very smart," David said as he handed Kurt back his glass. "I'm not going to pretend I know what you're going through. Frankly I can't even stomach the thought of that happening to me and Patrick. All I can say is that I'm sorry you're having to go through this and if there's anything I can do to help ..."

"David, you've provided me refuge in the middle of a storm," Kurt said. "And for that I'm incredibly thankful. I've weathered many storms during my short time on this planet. I plan on weathering this one, too. Or perhaps I'm in denial and everything will come crashing down tomorrow."

The two of them laughed.

Kurt extended his glass in David's direction and said, "Here's to not so happy endings."

David brought his glass up and clinked it against Kurt's. "And new beginnings."


End file.
